


Guitar

by tiffany (unbrashest)



Category: due South
Genre: Drabble, Episode Related, Filk, Gen, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-27
Updated: 2003-01-27
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbrashest/pseuds/tiffany
Summary: Fraser, alone in a park with his instrument





	Guitar

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Guitar

## Guitar

by tiffany

Author's website: http://uk.geocities.com/ace_leary380/

Disclaimer: No harm or infringement is intended here.   


Author's Notes: Thanks have to go to both Snowee and my Obi-Kat, who have to listen to me complain about my writing - you are saints!   


Story Notes: This started out as a songfic, but there's no song attached to it! I sat onto it as long as I could, trying to entice tunes to come forth, but alas, none have as yet. Also, this takes place sometime after the episode "Mountie Sings the Blues"

* * *

He plucked out a tune, something familiar, warming up. His fingers were stiff from not playing his guitar all week. Duty getting in the way. He hated when he didn't have time to play, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. As his fingers loosened up the tune got more complex, and he began to hum along. 

This was the life. A beautiful clear sunny day. A huge shady oak tree at his back. A view of the lake through the wooded park. Diefenbaker sat contentedly at his feet. People were walking by, but no one was close enough to bother him. His mind wandered as he strummed, thinking about nothing in particular. He really needed to get out of that consulate more often. He sometimes forgot just how stifling it could be. 

And as much as he enjoyed Ray's company, sometimes he could be stifling as well. Being with Ray wasn't hard, exactly, but he did have to maintain a certain level of energy to work with him. He noticed, too, that lately it was harder to get away by himself; Ray seemed to be getting more dependent on him. That was more stressful, in a strange way, than being alone for so long. He reminded himself that here, sitting in the grass, he simply had to think of the next chord progression. 

He sang softly as he played, purposely ignoring the curious passersby, and his mind turned back to his working partner. Ray sometimes made comments that Benton was so perfect at everything, but Ray had no idea how much time it took him to perfect his skills. And how very long those northern winters were. He stopped playing for a moment, lost in thought. He missed those winters. He'd adapted to Chicago, but when he slowed down for a moment, like now, he remembered how much he wanted to go home. He shook his head and chided himself; this line of thinking was getting him nowhere. He picked up the tune where he'd left off. 

Finally he turned to the most complicated piece in his repertoire, and sang smoothly in counterpoint. He really was proud of this piece - it had taken him two years to learn it through and through. And if he were bold enough to perform, this is the one he would choose to do. 

That time singing backup for Tracy Jenkins had been an aberration. If Ray hadn't shoved him out there on stage, he wouldn't have been able to go on his own. Once behind the microphone, he had to concentrate simply on singing, and pretend they were all back in the studio. Since then, he'd thought about singing at open mike or amateur nights at local clubs, but every time he even thought about getting up on stage, his knees got weak and he had to suppress the urge to vomit. 

So for now, he was utterly content to play his guitar in the park, his only audience the oak tree and the insects. He gave himself totally to the music, and forgot about everything else. His voice echoed around the small park, and he ended on a satisfactory major chord. He smiled to himself and took a deep breath, feeling better than he had in weeks. 

He was startled to hear a smattering of applause from his left. Several people were standing there, grins on their faces. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and knew his cheeks were bright red. A pleasant-looking woman smiled at him and said, "Well? How about another one?" 

Fraser demurred. "Ah, no, I think my, uh, lunch hour's over. I should be heading back." A few groaned, and the small group dispersed slowly. He put his guitar into the case and stood up, shrugging into his leather jacket. He and Dief walked in the opposite direction from the crowd, back towards the consulate. 

After walking a block, he permitted himself a grin. Perhaps he would be able to try an open mike night after all. 

**FINIS**

* * *

End Guitar by tiffany:

Author and story notes above.


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